


Happily Ever After?

by The_Lark



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-06
Updated: 2013-09-29
Packaged: 2017-12-25 19:07:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/956618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Lark/pseuds/The_Lark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik and Christine get married.  Suddenly, life as a lonely recluse doesn't look so bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"So, what's it gonna be, Christine?" Erik snarled, tugging menacingly on the lasso wrapped around Raoul de Chagny's throat. "Are you going to marry me, or am I gonna have to snap blondie here like a twig?"

"For heaven's sake," rasped Raoul, "whatever happened to getting down on one knee? This is your idea of a proposal? It's no wonder you have to resort to violence to get women!"

"Shove it!" snapped Erik, reddening. "Christine, have you made your choice?"

Christine slowly waded into the lake and advanced on Erik.

Pitiful creature of darkness

What kind of life have you known?

God give me courage to show you

You are not alone!

And with that, she slipped Erik's ring onto her finger and kissed him. A lot.

Ten or fifteen minutes later, Erik pulled away dizzily. "So…I have a history of misreading your cues. Was that a yes?"

"Of course, darling." She smiled apologetically at the vicomte, and tossed him a knife, as he was still trussed to the gate "Sorry, Raoul."

Raoul just cut himself free and gave her a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Don't worry your pretty little head about me. I know when I'm licked. I wish you two all the happiness in the world." He opened the gate and waded out of the lair. "Don't bother to stop sucking face-I'll show myself out." As his footsteps faded away, they could here him calling out to the approaching mob, "Never mind, everybody. The Phantom got away, but we shouldn't let the evening be a total loss. Let's all go for pizza, my treat!"

The angry mob let out a cheer, dropped their torches and weapons into the lake, and raced for the exits.

The day after this seemingly perfect E/C ending, the happy couple got married, then spent the next two weeks on their honeymoon in Hawaii. Everything went perfectly until they got back. (Well, except for their attempt at hula lessons. Don't ask.)

The morning after they came home, Erik awoke to a inharmonious blast that seemed to be coming from his pipe organ. He clamped his hands over his ears and stormed out of the bedroom. "Ow! Damn it! So help me, if those Phans are down here taking souvenir photos of themselves playing my organ again, I'm gonna-gah!" Erik cried as he spotted his organ with several heavy shopping bags sitting on the keys and some sort of red gunk dribbling over the edge of the keyboard.

Christine cheerfully skipped back into the room. "Morning honey."

"Christine, what have you done? What is that stuff you spilled all over my poor pipe organ?"

"Oh, I've just been out shopping, and the bags were really heavy, so I dropped them on the organ because it was close to the door. One of my bottles of perfume must've broken."

Erik pulled the bags off the organ, ending the horrible blare of noise, and rummaged around in them for the cracked bottle. His eyes widened with horror as he read the label. "Pearberry? PEARBERRY! Now I won't be able to play my organ again until the smell wears off of it. I hope you're happy!"

"What's the big deal?" Christine rolled her eyes.

"I'm a disfigured serial killer who lives in a deadly maze five stories underground. People expect me to smell like death and decay and shattered dreams! Not…" He examined the label closely. "…A delightful blend of juicy pears and ripe forest berries!"

Unfazed, she took the bag and handed him a second bottle. "Here, then, put on some of this Moonlight Path scent to cover it up. You like moonlight and nighttime and all that jazz, so it's appropriate for you, right?"

Erik skimmed through the ingredient list. "It's full of bloody flowers!" he cried indignantly. "If the other supervillains catch me in this, they'll laugh me out of the genre!"

"Settle down, honey."

She was right, he told himself, willing his fists to unclench. He loved her, and he should be able to overlook a silly little thing like this. "I'm sorry I blew up at you dear. Let me help you put those things away." He poked through the bags. "You didn't happen to pick up any cat food while you were out, did you? Ayesha's almost out."

"Erik, I have something to tell you, and I want you to promise you won't blow up and go on one of your violent rampages when you hear it."

He groaned. "What did you do to her? Please tell me you didn't try to dress her in one of those revolting animal sweaters. Because I tried that one time and the results weren't pretty."

"Erik, I gave away your cat."

"WHAT?!?!" He shook her by the shoulders. "How could you do that to me?" He paced back and forth, muttering fretfully. "This can't be happening! My poor little baby! All alone without anyone to tell her a bedtime story and kiss her goodnight and-"

"Relax, Erik, it's not like I just dumped her in the pound. I left her with Nadir. He lives alone and I thought he could use the company."

At this same time, across town, everyone's favorite daroga was barricaded into his basement, huddled in a corner and praying fervently that the Animal Control people would get there in time.

"Besides," Christine continued, "you're entirely too fixated on that silly animal. The way you dote on her, it's disgraceful. You need to break yourself of that. I don't want you spoiling our kids rotten."

He gaped at his wife dumbly. "Uh...our kids? When, exactly, did we decide we were having kids?"

"Don't you argue with me! Ever since I was a little girl, I've had my family all planned out. We're going to have six children all together…"

Erik put his head in his hands. "Is this some kind of sick joke?"

"…three boys and three girls," she continued as if she hadn't heard. "The girls are all going to be named after flowers, and the boys are all going to born roughly close together so that we can dress them in matching sailor suits. And their names are going to be-"

He gave up on trying to argue with her and clamped a hand over her mouth. "I want my cat back."

She pulled away from him and opened another of the bags. "Don't worry Erik. I knew you'd be upset, so I took the liberty of buying you a new pet." She pulled a birdcage out of the bag and pulled away the cover, revealing a parrot so brightly colored he probably could have been seen from space. "Say hello to Pierre!"

Erik's mouth opened and closed silently, as if he were trying to yell but had momentarily forgotten how.

Christine clapped her hands happily. "You're speechless! I knew you'd like him better than that evil cat once you settled down. This little guy caught my eye right off hand. See, I was asking the man at the pet store what sort of pet he would recommend for an adorable psycho who enjoys music."

"And he recommended this garish creature?"

"No. But the moment the words were out of my mouth, Pierre here started echoing, 'adorable psycho, adorable psycho'. It was so precious!"

Right on cue, Pierre shrilly parroted, "Adorable psycho! Adorable psycho!".

Erik cringed, not sure whether to be more irritated by the "adorable" part or the "psycho" part.

"Now, why don't you find Pierre's birdseed, and I'll go hang his cage next to your pipe organ so he can keep you company while you compose."

Grinding his teeth and digging his nails into his palms, Erik tried to remind himself that he was deeply in love and should be deliriously happy right now.

A few days later, Erik stepped out of the bathroom in a towel and headed to his closet, only to discover that his clothes were all gone. "Dang it! Christine, did you let more of those souvenir-hunting Phans into the house?"

"No, I gave your clothes away to charity. I'm sure some homeless vampire will be very grateful to get them."

"Christine!"

"Look, honey, I've asked you time and again to buy some new clothes in a color other than black, and you've ignored me. This was the only solution I could think of." She tossed him his last remaining suit and a pair of shoes. "Now get dressed. The mall opens in a half hour."

Thirty minutes later, the Phantom of the Opera was being dragged through a department store, his wife draping various articles of clothing over him along the way. "Oh, look at this yellow one. It brings out your eyes beautifully, don't you think?"

"Absolutely not! Christine, I can put up with a lot, but I draw the line at dressing in pastels."

"Oh, Erik, you're such a drama queen sometimes. I think you've been listening to too much opera."

"I'm the Phantom of the freaking Opera! What else am I supposed to do?" shrieked Erik.

"Don't make a scene, sweetheart." She patted him on the arm and handed him another jacket. "Here, try this white one on. It matches your mask perfectly."

By the time they got home to the lair, Erik was decked out in white from head to toe, except for his black cloak, which he had only been allowed to keep for the sake of stealth. After wearily dropping the shopping bags on the floor, he trudged over to his pipe organ, collapsed onto the bench, and banged his head against the keys.

"Adorable psycho! Adorable psycho!" crowed Pierre obliviously.

Erik pulled off his left shoe and hurled it at the cage. "Christine made me promise not to kill you, Pierre, but someday when her head is turned, I'll be bringing Ayesha back in to do the job for me. Watch your back, bird."

"Erik, come in here!" Christine called from the living room. "We have company."

Popping an antacid, Erik steeled himself for the worst.


	2. Chapter Two

Erik cursed rather loudly when he discovered who "company" was.

Meg Giry and Raoul de Chagny were sitting on his couch, sipping tea. When he appeared in the doorway, Meg screamed at the top of her lungs, " _HE'S HERE, THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"_

Raoul, who had been sitting closest to her, got the brunt of the blast. He winced, rubbing his nearly-ruptured eardrums. "Yes, maybe because it's his house!"

"Sorry. " Meg blushed sheepishly. "Force of habit."

Christine took her husband's arm and ushered him into the room. "Look who stopped by to pay us a visit."

"Christine," Erik ground out through clenched teeth, "would you join me in the other room?" Without waiting for an answer, he threw her over his shoulder and carried her into the next room.

"Erik, honey, I'm not in the mood right now," Christine began to protest.

"No, no, I just wanted to ask you in private how your ex and that shrill best friend of yours got into the lair."

"Oh, I left a key under the doormat for them to use if they ever wanted to stop by."

"Doormat? Since when do I have a doormat?"

"I made us one the other day. You've been tracking that sludge from the lake all over the carpet, and I got sick of cleaning it up."

"Darling, did you ever stop to think that putting a welcome mat and a key to our house out front might undo all the work I've put into trying to keep visitors out? Building a torture chamber under my back door does no good if people can just waltz in the front door!"

But Christine put her foot down. "That's enough, Erik. I don't care how important your little 'evil genius' rep is to you. If you're going to be my husband, you're going to have to learn how to get along with my friends. Or at least to stop terrifying them!"

Cut her some slack, man, Erik told himself. _She's stuck alone here with you in the batcave all day, it's only natural for her to want to see her little friends now and then._ Forcing a smile, he nodded and let her lead him back into the living room.

Raoul put out his hand cheerfully. "Hey, Erik, nice to see you again. No hard feelings, right?" His eyes roamed over the phantom's new white-knight style ensemble. "Hey, look at that, we're twins!"

It was only then that he realized the vicomte was wearing an identical outfit. Horrified, he wrapped his black cape, the last line of defense he had, around himself tightly. "Grrr…" He instinctively reached for his lasso, but when Christine dug her fingernails into his arm, he grudgingly shook Raoul's hand. "No hard feelings."

He sat down in his favorite chair, and Raoul continued to chat. "Love how you've brightened the place up. It's amazing how a set of lace curtains can brighten up even a moldy black dungeon."

"Thanks." She jabbed Erik in the ribs with her elbow. "Told you so."

As the two of them continued to chat, Erik began to grow increasingly uneasy. Not because he was jealous, but because Meg was staring at him like he'd grown a second head that looked even stranger than the first. He did his best to politely ignore her, but when she walked up, unblinking, and poked him in the chest to see if he was corporeal, he lost it.

" _That does it!"_ he roared, leaping to his feet. _"If you two blond blockheads aren't out of my house in five seconds, so help me God, I'll feed you to the Siren!"_

"Actually, Erik, the Siren is gone. I hired a pool boy to fish her out of the lake day before yesterday," said Christine. "She scratched him up pretty bad and gnawed through all his pool netting, so I had to pay double."

"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUGGGGGHHH!"

"Oh, I get what this is about!" Raoul said knowingly. "The two newlyweds want some alone time. Say no more." He opened the door for Meg. "Come on, Meg. I'll walk you home."

Meg snapped a quick photo of the Opera Ghost to show to all her friends, and backed through the door with her mouth hanging open. Raoul grinned, gave Erik a conspiratorial wink, and followed her out.

Christine shot her husband a dirty look, but he had been momentarily blinded by the camera's flash and didn't see it. She stormed upstairs and slammed the door, eliciting a startled cry of "Adorable Psycho! Adorable Psycho!" from Pierre, who apparently had a very limited vocabulary.

Erik was about to try calming himself down with some music, when the doorbell rang. Ready to throw courtesy to the wind, he grabbed his lasso and threw the door open.

Much to his surprise, it turned out to be Nadir. The Persian was covered with scratches and bite marks, and his eyes were extremely bloodshot. "Hello, Erik," he said hoarsely.

"Whew, Nadir, thank God." He tossed the lasso aside and let the daroga in. "I've been meaning to come over and see how my little Ayesha's doing, but the wife's had me really busy putting up new wallpaper. So, how are the two of you getting on?"

Nadir sank onto the couch, looking utterly exhausted. "Let me put it this way. I've had twelve stitches, three rabies shots, and two bottles of brandy this morning alone."

"Ah, you tried to feed her cat food, didn't you?"

"What else would I feed a bloody cat?" snapped Nadir.

"She doesn't like eating cat food. She finds it degrading. Just make her some of whatever you're eating. Unless it's got onions in it.  She hates those."

Nadir sighed wearily. "Duly noted. I just dropped by to bring you your morphine." He handed Erik a packet of morphine and rose on unsteady legs. "Anyway, I'd better get home before that demon cat chews her way through my front door again."

"Why not just get her a cat flap so she can come and go as she pleases?"

"And unleash that creature on the general populace? I think not. And I was lenient enough to unleash even you on the general populace, so you know how bad she must be."

Erik's eyes lit up hopefully. "Say, Nadir, you wouldn't happen to have room for a cute, well-behaved little parrot at your house too, would you?"

"Nice try, Erik, but Christine already introduced me to Pierre. Learning to sleep with my eyes open for fear of getting them clawed out is one thing, but asking me to listen to that thing squawk 'adorable psycho' every two seconds for the rest of my life is going too far." Nadir slammed the door in his friend's face and headed off to the mall to see if there was such a thing as a solid steel cat muzzle.

Erik turned around to see his wife standing in the doorway with a disapproving scowl on her face. "What?" he demanded.

She folded her arms stubbornly. "I don't want you associating with that Nadir anymore."

"What?" Erik quirked his good eyebrow. "That's the most absurd thing I've ever heard. Nadir's been my friend for years. He saved my life. He stuck by me when I was all alone in the world. What could you possibly have against him?"

"Erik," she said condescendingly, as if it should be obvious, "that man's a bad influence on you."

" _Huh_?" Erik blinked stupidly. "That doesn't make good sense. Nadir's the one who's always hounding me not to do evil. He's worse than Jiminy Cricket."

"Yeah," Christine snorted, "and he also sneaks you drugs and helps you run from the law. You don't need friends like that. And while we're on the subject, I want you to get some counseling for that addiction of yours. I don't want the new baby exposed to drug abuse."

"I will do nothing of the-WHAT?" It took a second or two for the whole baby comment to kick in, but when it did, Christine was treated to the rather disturbing sight of the Phantom of the Opera hyperventilating.

"Erik, really, that's not very romantic," she scolded.

Erik passed the next several months studying some books Raoul de Chagny had brought over after hearing the happy news: _Child Rearing for the Reclusive Madman_ and _The Complete Fool's Guide to Underground Parenting_. He also spent a lot of time working on the new nursery. He had managed to keep Christine from painting the whole thing pink by putting up some wallpaper printed with music notes while she was sleeping. Well, more chloroformed than sleeping, actually, but it did the trick.

There was a lot of music-themed stuff in the baby's room, from the miniature pipe organ to the "Acapella to Zauberflote" See 'n' Say. The place turned out really cute, except for the crib. A few weeks before the baby was due, it was still a pile of bars and screws in the middle of the floor. Erik might have been the greatest genius the world had ever seen, but understanding the instructions for furniture assembly was something not even he could pull off.

He turned the instructions over and over in his hands, rolling them upside down and holding them up to the light, but it was no use. "Damn it all, I speak twenty languages! Why can't I find a single one of them on this stupid piece of paper?"

"Hello?" Raoul poked his head in the door. "Still wrestling with the crib, Erik?" He glanced at his watch. "What is that, seventy-three hours now? You know, I'd be happy to give you a hand with that. My brother and I had to put up one of those for my nephew last year."

"I can do it myself." Erik growled. "The day I need you to teach me anything is the day I eat my cape."

"So stubborn." Raoul shook his head ruefully. "Well, I just stopped by to bring you this." He held out another book. "I saw it in the store the other day and thought you guys might be able to use it. Bye, Erik. And bye, Christine!" he called as he left.

"Bye, Raoul," Christine answered as she walked into the nursery. "What's that he brought us?"

Erik thumbed through the book. "Looks like a book of baby names."

"Oh, well, we won't be needing that. I've already thought of some names."

"Me too."

"Okay, you go first."

He grinned proudly. "Aminta Marguerite for a girl, and if it's a boy, Mephistopheles Mozart."

Christine burst out laughing. "That's a good one, honey! No, seriously."

He just scowled. Even his mask looked angry.

She cleared her throat nervously. "Oh…uh, those are very…unique, I guess."

"Well, then what names do you like?"

"If it's a girl, Angelique, and if it's a boy, Erik Jr."

Erik groaned. "Dear, you've got to get over this angel fixation of yours. It's not healthy. You're going to land the kid in therapy just like your dad did to you if you keep this up. And as for naming the baby Erik, that could get confusing."

"You think? Okay, then, how about Eric instead?"

"That doesn't help!"

"Okay, then, we'll compromise. Eric Mephistopheles for a boy, how's that?"

"Please kill me."


End file.
